The Academy buzzed with rumor.
Not about Lucas.
Not about the Princess.
But about Kain Norigusho.
"Did you see how fast he moved?"
"She's an Archmage's daughter! He took her down like a street brawler!"
"He wasn't that fast last semester…"
"He's hiding something. I bet you he's using illegal mana enhancers."
Kain walked through it all like smoke through lattice.
He kept his expression blank, steps measured, his school bag slung over his shoulder as if nothing had changed.
But everything had.
Eliette Grail stared down at the spellbook on her desk.
She wasn't reading it.
She hadn't blinked in a minute.
The pages were filled with ritual circle diagrams—perfect, measured—but in her mind she kept replaying the fight.
He moved like he was born to kill.
He struck without fear. Without hesitation.
He touched my throat… and didn't finish the job.
Her jaw clenched.
She could still feel his breath. The weight of his fingers. The sudden pain that had locked her body and dropped her like a puppet.
No one had ever done that to her.
Not even the masters at the Black Spire.
And now?
Now she couldn't stop thinking about it.
She didn't feel anger.
She felt fascination.
Something inside her—quiet, cracked—whispered:
You don't understand him. And that means you have to.
Elsewhere
Far below the Imperial City, in a candle-lit hollow beneath an alchemist's cellar, three masked men knelt before a throne of stone and bone.
A tall figure stood before them. Wrapped in black scales. His voice was low, rasping. Cold.
"Four assassins dead," he said. "One survivor. No confirmed kill."
"We believe the target is—"
"—Don't guess."
The voice hissed.
He turned toward a second figure, standing in the shadows.
Her voice was almost gentle.
"Send a Watcher," she said. "Someone who can observe… without dying."
"Do we activate a Nameless Blade?"
"No," she said, smiling faintly.
"Not yet. Let's see what this Kain Norigusho really is."
Kain's Room — Midnight
Kain sat in silence.
The moonlight washed over his desk. He wasn't writing. Not tonight.
He stared at his hand. The one he used to kill.
The one that had held Eliette down.
He remembered how easy it was.
There had been no thrill. No fear.
Just cold calculation.
He wasn't afraid of that part of himself.
He was afraid of how natural it felt now.
He walked to the mirror. Looked at his reflection.
The violet glow had faded—but it still felt close.
Just beneath his skin.
He clenched his fists.
"I'm not the same," he whispered.
That used to terrify him.
Now?
It made him feel safe.
The Next Day — Academy Gardens
"Can we talk?"
Kain turned.
Eliette.
She looked calm. Controlled. Dressed in formal robes. She even wore her badge of elemental theory excellence—a silver flame stitched into her collar.
"About the fight," she said. "I'd like to understand how you…"
She hesitated.
"...countered my inner vortex so quickly."
Kain studied her. She wasn't being subtle.
But her expression was wrong.
Too flat. Too intense.
He nodded.
"Fine. Walk with me."
They strolled through the rosewood trees in silence for a while.
Kain could feel her watching him. Analyzing him.
"You fought like an assassin," she said.
Kain shrugged. "I read a lot."
"I don't believe that."
"I don't care."
Her mouth twitched—either irritation or interest.
"You should've finished me."
"You weren't a threat anymore."
"Even if I cast again?"
"I don't hesitate."
"...You didn't."
More silence.
She stopped under a blossom tree. The wind carried red petals between them.
Then she said it:
"Do you want to spar again?"
Kain raised an eyebrow.
"You lost."
"I want to know how far you'll go if you try."
Kain leaned closer, voice low.
"I didn't try?"
"Not really."
They locked eyes.
There was something in hers now—not just interest. Not just pride.
But hunger.
He stepped back. "We'll see."
That night, Kain began writing in his notebook.
Not just names. Not just events.
But threats. Manipulations. Contingencies.
He drew circles around every major player:
Lucas — naive hero, easy to provoke, just as easy to weaponize.
Rhiannon (Princess) — politically dangerous. Cannot be threatened directly.
Eliette — unpredictable. Now fixated. A potential blade. Or leash.
Fennir — stable. Can be used. Potential ally. Or bait.
He tapped the page.
Then he wrote:
"No longer just survive. Dominate. Outmaneuver the plot."
"Heroes have morals. I don't have that luxury."
He flipped to a clean page. Began mapping out the next arc.
In the original story, it was a dueling tournament between noble houses. Kain had a minor role—until he was killed off-screen before the second round.
This time?
He'd win. Or at least get far enough to matter.
To manipulate. To learn.
To kill.